


after all this time

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: “Kiss his cheek... hey Tommy, what does an aneurysm feel like?”“Yep,” Tommy says with finality. “This is a great idea.”





	after all this time

**Author's Note:**

> written for Dan Week Day 2: Accidental Marriage/Fake Relationship, Crooked Era

“Let me get this straight,” Tommy says evenly. He’s using the Tone of Judgement that he only breaks out when he thinks Jon has done something monumentally stupid. The Tone has made less appearances in recent years than it did in Chicago or even in D.C. but it’s familiar all the same. “You agreed to - while we’re on tour for our media company - go to a family wedding with Dan. As his date. As his fake boyfriend. 

“Dan, our friend and colleague and former boss. Dan, who you’ve had a thing for for a literal decade. Dan, who a single hook up with prompted you to leave the White House. That Dan. You’re going to go to a family wedding and fake a relationship with _Dan Pfeiffer_ and then come back and do a live podcast with him and us the next night. You’re right Jon, there’s absolutely no universe in which this ends poorly.” 

“Well when you put it like that,” Jon says weakly. So it’s maybe not the _smartest_ decision he’s ever made. “Just- he asked me and you know his one aunt is always terrible about the fact that he’s divorced and single and I-” _couldn’t say no_.  

Tommy shakes his head like he heard the unfinished end of Jon’s sentence. “You’re an idiot Favreau,” he says fondly. “Do us all a favor and when this blows up in your face, try to contain the damage, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Jon agrees quietly. “So you think it’s a bad idea, huh?” 

Tommy leans back against the pillows. He’s sitting sideways on Jon’s couch, knee up on the cushion so he can stare at Jon, _read_ Jon. “What gave you that impression?” Tommy sighs. “I just- I don’t want to see you get all wrapped up in this again Jon.” 

“Sometimes I regret that I’ve ever told you anything,” Jon complains. He hadn’t _meant_ to whine to Tommy on inauguration night about how nice Dan looked in his suit. He’d been drunk and emotionally compromised and Tommy is _too damn perceptive_ . Sober Jon would never have told Tommy _when he leans in to read a draft over my shoulder he just smells so good you know_ in response to a joke about how Jon had clearly noticed how well Dan cleaned up from the campaign trail dust. Knowing he was going to be stuck with Tommy for the rest of his life, Sober Jon would never have admitted _I think sometimes I want to impress Dan more than I want to impress Obama_.  

“But then who would you get drunk and rue the day you met him with?” Tommy laughs, bumping Jon’s knee with his ankle. “Look, if you think you can handle it, go for it. You’re an adult, I believe in you, it’ll be fine, just smile and laugh and kiss his cheek a couple times.” 

“Kiss his- hey Tommy what does an aneurysm feel like?”

“Yep,” Tommy says with finality. “This is a great idea.”

 

***

 

“Aunt Tricia this is Jon,” Dan says smoothly. For what feels like the thousandth time - and the ceremony hasn’t even started yet - he adds, “My boyfriend.” 

Jon almost doesn’t even have to put in the effort to not flinch this time from the cruel verisimilitude of it, of the reminder of what he’d once thought he could have. He _does_ flinch under the assessing glare Tricia gives him. Right, she’s the reason they’re doing this in the first place. Jon smiles as brightly as he can manage. “It’s so nice to meet you ma’am.” 

“You too, I’m sure,” Tricia says icily. It sounds like it’s the opposite of nice to meet him. “And what’s wrong with _you_?” she continues casually.  

“Excuse me?” Jon asks, taken aback. 

“Aunt Tricia,” Dan says sharply. She doesn’t look at all chastened, even though Dan used the voice that sent interns and reporters alike cowering. Dan was not exaggerating.

“It’s only a question Howard,” Tricia says haughtily. She turns her cool gaze back to Jon. “He’s quite bad at finding anyone to date, you know,” she says like Dan isn’t standing right there. “Never the most attractive man and with how much he works.” 

Jon feels his eyebrows shoot into his hair. _What the fuck_. He grits his teeth, but smiles as wide as he can manage. “I happen to think Dan is really fucking hot,” Jon says innocently, and truthfully. “And we all worked a lot, working for the President, you know.” Dan snorts next to him.

“Hmm,” Tricia sniffs, unimpressed. Jon just keeps smiling at her as he reaches out an arm to pull Dan close, pointedly letting his hand fall on Dan’s ass, cause he can and cause he wants to see what her face will do. 

Tricia’s face certainly does a thing as Dan leans into him. Someone calls her name from across the church and she turns her head away. “So hot,” Jon repeats in a purposefully loud whisper as she walks away. Her spine straightens artificially when he says it. _Good_.  

“Fuck,” Dan says softly when she’s out of earshot. Jon realizes abruptly that his hand is still on Dan’s ass and he drops it quickly, sitting back in the pew. “That’s what she’s like when I’m _with_ someone,” Dan adds, settling next to Jon. He throws an arm casually over the back of the bench, brushing Jon’s shoulders easily.

“I… wow,” Jon mutters. “What business of hers is your love life, holy shit?”

“God knows,” Dan murmurs, leaning close to his ear. “Have I thanked you enough times? I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough times.” 

Jon shivers. “S’fine, really.” He totally gets why Dan didn’t want to come alone. Tricia was by far the worst, but the general attitude has been… similar for the last hour. Jon hasn’t missed the other set of looks either. “So um,” he says awkwardly. “No one’s um, commented on the fact that I’m, y’know, a man.” 

“Oh they’ve noticed,” Dan says immediately. “It’s not exactly, a, um, surprise, I don’t think. But I think the, uh, strongly worded rants from Bob and my cousins and me at holidays have started to sink in enough that they’ll all just gossip about it later rather than being assholes about it here.” 

“Ah,” Jon says softly. _Not a surprise…_ Since fucking when is it not a surprise? Since fucking when is it not _even if we could, I don’t know if- my family- the optics_? The music’s starting though and everyone is turning to see the procession so he doesn’t have a chance to figure out how to formulate that question in a way that’s remotely acceptable.

Dan’s arm is still around his shoulders when they stand up for the bride’s entrance. He squeezes Jon’s bicep as he rises before letting him go. Jon sucks in a breath. Just a few more hours.

 

***

 

“Come on!” Jon giggles as he tugs at Dan’s arm. A few glasses of wine have, if not convinced his stupid brain to let it fucking go, at least slowed down his racing thoughts. And the alcohol has loosened his limbs, and there’s _music_. “Dan, dance with me, please.”

Dan rolls his eyes, even as he follows Jon out onto the dance floor. Someone wolf whistles at the table as they leave, probably Dan's brother, who’s in on the whole fucking thing and has been waggling his eyebrows at Jon all night. 

“I really, really don’t dance,” Dan says lightly as they move through the crowd.

“Liar,” Jon calls his bluff and Dan flushes deep into the unbuttoned vee of his dress shirt. His tie’s hanging loose around his neck and he looks- happy. “Also this song literally tells you what to do, anyone can dance to it.” 

“I didn’t say _can’t_ ,” Dan says grumpily, falling into the steps of the Cupid Shuffle beside Jon nonetheless. “I said _don’t_.”

_To the left to the left to the left the left the left-_ “Still a lie,” Jon insists. Tommy had pulled Dan up and into Lovett and Elijah’s impromptu pre-show dance party just last month, but before that: twirling in campaign HQ on good nights, foot tapping in grungy bars in Chicago, formal steps at inauguration balls and state dinners, grinding in a club in D.C. that night after the vote before they- “But go ahead and be a pedant.”

Dan trips over his own feet while kicking and Jon grabs for his elbow instinctively to steady him. _Now walk it by yourself, walk it by yourself_ \- “Is it possible to look dignified while dancing to this song?” Dan asks rhetorically.  

“Your dad’s kinda pulling it off,” Jon nods across the room. 

Dan laughs. “He’s just kind of moving in a circle but sure.” 

“Dan, I have to tell you something,” Jon says seriously. Dan looks at him, intent. “That’s the whole point.”

“Jon, I have to tell you something too,” Dan parrots in the same tone. “You’re really not selling this whole dancing thing.” 

This time Jon’s the one who trips, his head thrown back in laughter. Dan’s hand is landing on his waist to steady him when the music shifts. _It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide-_ Jon takes a step back automatically. Dan doesn’t break eye contact as he reaches out a hand.

“Come on Jon,” Dan says, so soft that Jon’s surprised he can hear it over the music. “Dance with me?” 

Jon does _not_ want to do this. Does not want Dan’s hands to settle around him, does not want to sway together, does not want to have to figure out where to look, how close to get, while a fucking love song plays, surrounded by couples.  

When he’s about to take another step backwards though, protect his fucking heart at least a little, he catches eyes with Tricia over Dan’s shoulder. This is literally what he’s here for, what kind of friend is he if he can’t suck it up for one slow dance.

“Yeah,” Jon breathes, stepping back towards Dan instead of away. Dan’s arm slides around his back easily, his other hand outstretched. Jon takes a deep breath and takes it, wrapping his own arm around Dan’s back. _And you can tell everybody this is your song-_  

Jon means to keep a commentary while they dance, means to cut the tension that he hopes only he is feeling, but he can’t think of a single thing to say. Dan is so close and this feels so _right_. He knows it’s a terrible idea, but he can’t muster the energy to stop himself from leaning closer until his head is practically resting on Dan’s shoulder.

Dan tilts his own head down until his cheek is pressed against Jon’s hair. Jon dimly recognizes the flash of a camera pointed at them as Dan’s arms tighten around him, pressing them closer together. _-how wonderful life is while you're in the world_.

“Jon,” Dan murmurs as the song ends. Jon squeezes his eyes shut, gives himself one more second to rest in the feel of Dan’s arms around him, breathes in the smell of Dan’s shampoo. _Okay_.

Jon turns his face against Dan’s neck to whisper in his ear. From far away, this should look like a kiss. “That should sell it, yeah?” Jon says softly before pulling away. 

Dan’s face looks tight. _Too much_. “Yeah, for sure,” Dan says. “Another drink?”

 

***

 

The cake has been cut and the party’s winding down and Jon just wants to go back to the hotel, sleep off the terrible wine hangover he’s sure to have, but he can’t fucking find Dan.

Jon’s pulling out his phone to text him annoyedly, _some fake boyfriend you are_ when he hears voices around the corner from the bathrooms in the hallway.  

“So you really love him, huh?” Dan’s mom says.

There’s an exhale of breath that can’t be- “Yeah, yeah I do,” Dan says. Jon freezes. “I dunno Mom, it’s always been so complicated, our lives are crazy, we live in different cities, but, I can’t help but hope that it…” 

“You can make anything work if you want it badly enough,” she says firmly. “You’ve known each other a long time.” 

“We have. He’s just, he’s the most passionate person I know, about _everything_ . Sometimes I think the only thing keeping me from disappearing off into the wilderness in response to our current political shitstorm is his voice on the other end of the phone,” Dan says. “And there were _definitely_ so many crises on the campaign and in the White House that I wouldn’t have gotten through without him. It’s been, I’ve loved him for a long time.”

Jon can’t breathe. He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be listening to this, Dan can’t mean-

“I’m happy for you sweetie.” 

Dan sighs. “I don’t think. This weekend- this is a limited time thing I think Mom.” Jon feels reality slam into him like a freight train. _They’re pretending_. “It’s, you know. Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work out.” 

“Dan,” she chastises. Jon pinches the bridge of his nose. He needs to- he needs to get out of here.

“Mom I-” Dan starts, then he laughs, bitter. “God- I- I have to tell you something.” 

Jon flees.

 

***

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dan asks in the hotel hallway. Jon bites his lip hard. “You’ve been quiet since we left the reception hall-” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jon lies. “Just tired, you know? I think I drank too much.” He forces himself to smile at Dan, even as he pushes the keycard uselessly into the slot. 

“Okay…” Dan says, unconvinced. “Here, let me-” His hand slides over Jon’s guiding the card until the door clicks open. “Thanks again, for, um, everything. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Yeah,” Jon says tonelessly. He’s not selling it, he can hear himself not selling it. “Night.” 

The door shuts behind him and he makes it to the bed before he lets the tears fall. 

Stupid stupid stupid, what was he _thinking_? All this ever was was a favor to Dan. For tonight. To get his family off his back. It didn’t mean anything, it was never going to mean anything, Dan doesn’t _want_ him.

“Dan doesn’t want you,” Jon whispers aloud to the empty room. He hasn’t even bothered to kick off his shoes, let alone brush his teeth, but he can’t bring himself to move. “Nothing has changed.” 

Nothing’s changed since that morning in Jon’s apartment in D.C., when Dan woke up in his bed and smiled at him. When Jon said _so are we going to…?_ and Dan looked at him, stricken, said _Jon we work in the White House_. When Dan said _I can’t, we can’t_. When Dan said _it’s not worth it, do you know how…I don’t think we-_ When Jon watched in silence while Dan got dressed and walked to the door. When Dan said _I need to- I need some time_.  

“He doesn’t want you,” Jon repeats. He stares at the ceiling, unable to sleep, until Tommy pounds on his door five hours later.

 

***

 

“This isn’t fucking working,” Tommy snaps when they clear the stage. 

Dan and Lovett are doing the interview while Jon and Tommy take a break. 

Thank god Dan and Lovett are doing the interview, because Tommy’s right, this isn’t fucking working. They’re halfway through the show and Tommy has had to intervene to ask Dan’s opinion twice because Jon keeps skipping right over him as he moderates, failing at the one thing he brings to the show. 

He’s not _trying_ to ignore Dan, he’s not trying to make it tense. It’s just like, his brain is avoiding the pain by not looking, not thinking about it. Not dealing with how he’s done exactly what he promised he wouldn’t do.  

“I’m sorry,” Jon offers lamely. 

“Uh huh,” Tommy says. “What the fuck happened last night?”

Jon exhales. He considers lying, but Tommy would just figure him out and then he’d be extra pissed off. “I was an idiot.” 

Tommy raises one eyebrow. “How so?” _How did you wreck our company?_ he doesn’t ask, but it’s implied.  

“I… I got lost in the fantasy and I know it’s exactly what you warned me about Tommy, I’m _sorry_ , but there was just… there was this tiny bit where it felt like it might be… real.” 

Tommy visibly decides not to say _told you so_. “Oh Jon.”  

Jon buries his face in his hands. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says simply. “Have you, I know this is a wild idea, but have you considered talking to him about it?” 

“Oh yeah Tommy that’s a brilliant idea,” Jon snaps. “I’ll just make him turn me down yet again, like I didn’t get the message loud and clear last time. He doesn’t fucking want me, it’s fine.” 

Tommy grabs his shoulder, firm. “It has been _five years_ Jon,” he enunciates clearly. “Trump is president.” Jon stares at him, annoyed. Tommy sighs and relents, “Look I’ve got your back either way, you know that. I just- things might have changed?”

Jon shakes his head. “They haven’t.”

“Okay,” Tommy says softly, reaching out to hug Jon quickly. “Do us all a favor and get the stick out of your ass for the night at least, we have to go back out there.”

 

***

 

“We need to talk.”

Jon was this close to getting into his room for the night, successfully avoiding this. He was this close to being able to lock himself away tonight, roll up just in time to go to the airport in the morning, have a whole four days to get over himself before they have to do the Thursday pod, have a whole month to get over _Dan_ before he has to see him in person again.

Instead, Dan’s hand grabbed the door as he was about to close it and now Dan has pushed his way inside Jon’s hotel room.

“Can we not?” Jon asks weakly, already sitting on the edge of his bed, giving in to the inevitable. Hopefully Dan doesn’t want to quit the pod. Lovett could do Thursdays maybe. He’d whine about being overworked but they could make it work. 

Dan ignores his protest. He spins the desk chair around and sits down, facing Jon, staring at him, intent and resolved. “I’m sorry.” 

_What?_ “What are you sorry for?” Jon asks, confused. 

“I don’t know what I did that was too much,” Dan says slowly. “But the whole thing was probably too much, I shouldn’t have asked you- I’m sorry that I asked you to come, yesterday.” 

“It was fine, Dan, I already said-” Jon says, tired. Dan holds up a hand. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. It wasn’t fair to you, not with the way I-” Dan breathes slowly. _Fuck, he knows_. “Not with the way I feel about you.”

“I’m sorry, I pushed too far-” Jon starts. Wait. “You _what_ about me?”

Dan rubs a hand over his face sheepishly. “The way I feel about you. I wanted that to be real and I invited you under false pretenses and I-” he sighs. “I’m in love with you Jon, and I took advantage of your friendship.” 

What the fuck, what the fuck what the fuck. Dan is not _in love_ with him, Dan doesn’t _want_ him.  

“You rejected me!” Jon yells.

“I did what now?” Dan asks, sharp and perplexed.

“Don’t- don’t play dumb,” Jon says. “Five years ago. We slept together. And you got up in the morning and said that we ‘couldn’t do this, it’s not worth it’ and then you _left_.”

Dan looks, stricken. “Jon-” he says, “I- I said I needed some time and then two days later you announced you were leaving the White House and started making plans for the transition.” 

“I couldn’t- I’m not fucking proud of that,” Jon says defensively. “I was planning to leave soon anyway I didn’t just-” He can’t feel his fingers, he’s gripping the comforter so hard. “Turns out I was really fucking hung up on you.”

“You absolute idiot,” Dan says softly, fondly. “Jon I needed time, I’m sorry I didn’t make that clearer, but the problem was never that I didn’t want _you_. I hadn’t, I hadn’t figured it out for myself, let alone being ready to navigate a same-sex relationship in high profile White House jobs. And then you left and I didn’t- I pushed it down and ignored it because I thought you didn’t want _me_. Denial was working nicely until we started doing podcasts together once a week. ”

Jon’s stomach is turning cartwheels, but if- “Wait a second, you’ve thought I didn’t want _you_ all these years?” he asks. Dan shrugs, self-deprecating. “If I’m an idiot then so are you,” he informs Dan, petty.

“Oh,” Dan says. “Oh shit.”

Jon looks down at the floor, tracing the floral pattern of the carpet with his eyes. The entire world feels like it’s been upended. It’s maybe thirty seconds before Dan moves, his hand reaching for Jon’s chin, pulling his face back up. 

“We’re both idiots,” Dan says slowly. “Jon, I’m fucking crazy about you. I invited you to go to the wedding with me cause I needed Aunt Tricia off my case, sure, but I asked _you_ to go because I didn’t want to spend the night with anyone else.”

Jon swallows around the lump in his throat. “Dan I-” He shakes his head helplessly, but Dan just strokes his thumb against Jon’s jawbone, gentle. “I’m- I’m fucking crazy about you too. Like, so- God, I love you.”

Dan beams at him. “I think we should kiss, maybe.” 

“God, yes,” Jon says, too eager by half. Dan’s standing over him, steady hands tilting his head back, before he can even be embarrassed though. 

“I love you,” Dan whispers against his mouth before he pushes Jon backwards on the bed, arms wrapping around him, strong and tight and _real_.


End file.
